


Pick of the Litter

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Captain's Privilege, Casual Sex, First Time, M/M, Marking, Quiet Sex, Shy Jordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: He doesn’t invoke his privilege much; usually there’s just not time with the schedule they keep, and sometimes hockey leaves him wanting to sleep more than he wants anything else. Still, it’s his right as captain, and, tonight, Claude thinks he’s going to take advantage of that.





	

It’s a hell of a win, and Claude’s flying high on it. Such as their situation is, there was some fucking great hockey played tonight and he feels  _ good _ . Somewhere between showers and media,  _ good _ turns into  _ want _ and Claude finds himself turning things over in his mind as the last of the reporters disperse. 

 

He doesn’t invoke his privilege much; usually there’s just not time with the schedule they keep, and sometimes hockey leaves him wanting to sleep more than he wants anything else. Still, it’s his right as captain, and, tonight, Claude thinks he’s going to take advantage of that. 

 

There’s a handful of guys on the team he doesn’t mess with, for various reasons; after all, Claude doesn’t want to screw up good team dynamics for the sake of a fuck, but there’s still a good portion of the team to choose from. His eyes roam over them as everyone packs away their gear, weighing his options right up until his gaze lands on Jordan’s back. 

 

Dark curls cling damply to the nape of Jordan’s neck, the strip of skin above his collar pale in comparison and Claude warms as he thinks about it marked by his mouth. It’s where Claude’s hand lands when he steps up behind Jordan, gentle so as not to frighten but Jordan barely startles. 

 

“Come home with me?” Pink rushes into Jordan’s face, his eyes darting up to Claude’s as though needing to make sure he’s not joking. “You can say no,” Claude offers gently, even as the want simmering under his skin protests loudly at the idea of picking someone else. 

 

“No- I mean, yes, I-I’ll come. Home with you.” Claude laughs softly at Jordan’s stuttering agreement, giving him a reassuring pat as he steps away. 

 

Jordan rides with Claude back to his, gear tossed into the back of Claude’s car. He’s quiet, more so than normal and Claude flicks on the radio to help cover some of the tension until they finally pull into his complex. 

 

It’s harder to hold back once they’re finally inside; Claude backs Jordan against his door, boxing him in with his body, resting careful fingers against his cheek. “You can say no, Jordan. I won’t hold it against you.” 

 

In lieu of an answer, Jordan turns into Claude’s touch and lets his eyes drift shut. His mouth is soft beneath Claude’s own, breath catching when Claude’s other hand comes to rest on his hip. Jordan obediently lifts his arms when Claude strips his shirt up and off, dropping it somewhere beside them so he can get his hands on Jordan’s chest and stomach. Jordan’s all soft skin, toned muscle underneath and fuck Claude loves hockey players. 

 

“Bedroom?” he murmurs, swirling a fingertip around one of Jordan’s nipples just to watch him shiver. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Claude leads him down the hall, tossing off his shirt and shucking his shorts when they’re through the entry. He’s pleased to find Jordan doing the same even if the rookie looks a little embarrassed to be standing naked in the middle of Claude’s bedroom. His hands hover near his cock, like he wants to cover himself as much as he wants Claude to look. 

 

“Pretty boy,” he praises, smiling to himself when Jordan drops his eyes shyly. He does cover himself then, shifting on his feet until Claude takes pity on him.

 

Jordan comes willingly when Claude pulls him into his arms, tilting his head and meeting  Claude halfway for another kiss. Claude’s hands drift to Jordan’s ass, full and firm beneath his palms. A small gasp gets breathed into Claude’s mouth when he pulls Jordan’s cheeks apart.  Fingertips brush between, earning Claude another faint sound that he wants to hear again. 

 

“Quiet, huh?” Claude hums, nuzzling against Jordan’s cheek when he stiffens slightly in Claude’s arms. “That’s okay. I like it. You just enjoy yourself, yeah? Let me touch you.” 

 

“Please,” Jordan breathes against Claude’s lips. He rocks back and pushes Claude’s fingers more firmly against his hole, a moan catching in his throat when a Claude nudges a dry fingertip inside. 

 

Giving him another quick peck, Claude nudges Jordan toward the bed. He grabs lube and a condom from the dresser as Jordan sprawls himself out over the covers. He looks good, Claude thinks, all pale skin and dark hair, pink staining his cheeks. 

 

Jordan makes room for Claude as he climbs on the bed, welcomes him down so they’re pressed chest-to-chest. He’s smiling the smile that just barely shows off his crooked bottom teeth, sweet and soft. Claude covers him with his body and brings their mouths back together. Light stubble greets his lips when Jordan turns to seek air; Claude chases the sensation along his jaw, biting at the softness just below it. That gets him a breathy sound, so Claude does it again and again until Jordan’s neck is littered with redding marks and Claude’s sucking a hickey just above his collarbone, Jordan’s hands tangled in his hair. 

 

Impatient hips roll up, dragging Jordan’s cock along Claude’s belly. Claude rocks down to meet Jordan halfway. They grind together for a while, mouths brushing until Jordan whines from low in his throat. 

 

Claude has to dig a bit for the lube, lost as it is in the now-rumpled sheets; Jordan fumbles around for it, too, laughing when he comes up victorious and shoves it into Claude’s hands. He’s shyer about spreading his legs further, but pulls them up so Claude can press in easily. Jordan shivers, clamping down hard around Claude’s fingers. Petting along Jordan’s thighs, Claude waits until his body relaxes before pushing in any further, watching Jordan’s face. After the initial stretch, Jordan takes the prep beautifully, teeth sunk into his lip and cock dabbing little streaks of precome on his belly. 

 

“Fuck, you look good.” Claude dips down to catch Jordan’s lips as he rolls the condom on. It’s easy to slide his hand under Jordan, to tilt him up so Claude can thrust in slow and easy. Toned legs wrap around his waist, keeping the angle just right and freeing up Claude’s hands so he can brace himself up. Jordan clings to his shoulders, dark curls mussed already against the pillows; the marks Claude had made are stark against his throat, and Claude half wonders why he’d waited so long to get the rookie in his bed. 

 

“C’mon.” Jordan uses the leverage he has to press up, the twist of his hips dragging Claude’s cock out and pushing it back in shallowly. It’s not enough. Adjusting his stance, Claude picks up a steady rhythm, deep and good and Jordan tosses his head back with a small sound. 

 

Dropping to his elbows, Claude drags a kiss along Jordan’s cheek, settling with his ear close to Jordan’s mouth so he can hear every breathy pant and soft moan. Blunt nails dig into his back, fingers soothing the marks in turn, and Claude is hard pressed to not pull back, wanting to see just what Jordan looks like getting fucked. 

 

Pressed close like this, Claude’s belly drags along Jordan’s dick; good, but probably not enough if Claude’s own experience holds out. He nips at Jordan’s jaw briefly, nudging his mouth up to the other man’s ear. “Stroke yourself for me?” 

 

With a shudder, Jordan slides a hand between them, body fluttering around Claude’s dick when he wraps his fingers around his cock. His knuckles bump against Claude’s stomach with every stroke, an odd counterpoint to Claude’s own thrusts, but what gets him is the stifled cry that tears out of Jordan’s throat. Lifting himself back up, Claude watches the rookie’s face, the way his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. Two, three, four more strokes and Jordan’s face twists, head turning away from Claude as his eyes slam shut. He comes silently, wet spurts up his belly and chest, come pooling in the dip of his stomach. 

 

“That’s it. That’s good,” Claude praises, breathless.

 

Jordan turns back for a messy kiss, eyes heavy-lidded and his touch softer now that he’s come. His legs slide down some on Claude’s waist, but he keeps urging Claude to move with them. Fingers dance over his shoulders and down his sides, nails scraping up his stomach; it’s the twist at a nipple that gets him, the bright spark of pain just enough to be pleasurable and Claude comes with a grunt. He instinctively thrusts in deep and holds there; Jordan pets along his back when Claude lets his head drop to his shoulder. 

 

There’s a mess of come and sweat between them, lube sticky on Claude’s thighs and fingers when he slides off the condom and tosses it toward the wastebasket. Carelessly swiping his hand clean on the sheet, Claude stretches out beside Jordan, flopping an arm over the rookie’s waist just for the sake of touching him. 

 

“You alright?” 

 

Claude’s not expecting a laugh, but Jordan’s patting him on the arm and rolling further into Claude’s space. “Good. Great, even.” They shuffle around until Jordan’s curled up against Claude, head pillowed on his arm. 

 

“We should shower,” Claude mumbles. Jordan’s practically sticking to him, but he’s loath to move. 

 

“Mm,” is all the answer Claude gets. He lets the rookie drift, deep breaths ghosting over his skin as Jordan settles into sleep. 

 

“Yeah. Showering can wait.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at [tumblr!](http://iaintafraidofnoghostbear.tumblr.com/)  
> Written for [this prompt](http://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=4477134) at the Sin Bin.


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